


I'm With You in Rockland

by visionshadows



Series: The Howl Cycle [1]
Category: NSYNC, Popslash
Genre: M/M, Mental Health Issues, OCD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-29 16:13:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/688904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/visionshadows/pseuds/visionshadows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Justin writes his memoirs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm With You in Rockland

* * *

 

_"maybe_ someday you'll see my face among the crowd  
maybe someday I'll share your little distant cloud."  


 

Justin dropped his bags with a heavy thump on the pristine marble floor of his foyer. He sniffed the air and made a face. The place always smelled like a tomb when he got back from an extended period of touring or whatever kept him from his house. It was clean because he paid for it to be cleaned, but his housekeeper, Maria, was under strict orders not to open the windows while he was gone. She listened because everyone listened to him. He'd fired people for less and he paid damn well so she knew better. 

The first thing he had to do was go change the calendars. Maria was under strict orders not to touch the calendars as well. She was however, allowed to change the clocks if he happened to be gone during that time of year. 

The first calendar was in the den, a small, grey thing that he'd gotten for $.99 when he and JC had gone on a late-night [Wal-Mart](http://www.walmart.com/) trip back in November. Of last year. Justin looked at the month the calendar was on. March. He flipped through April, May, June, July, August, September, October, and November. December was a picture of blurry flowers.

Five more calendars to go before he could go check on his shoes. Then after the shoes he was going to take inventory of the cabinets in the kitchen and make sure the right stuff was in there. He had a routine when he came home and if anyone disturbed him, they were going to face death. 

Not that anyone was around to disturb him anyway. He was alone in his huge, empty, musty house. 

Justin took a deep breath and smelled vanilla faintly under the musty smells. It was good to be home. 

* * *

  
Justin folded the corner of the bedspread back once, then pulled it forward again, smoothing it before pulling it back again. He did this three times and then climbed into bed, settling his head right in the middle of the flat pillow that he'd had for the last ten years. The rest of the pillows were fluffy and perfect. He refused to touch them, thought they were disgusting in their fluffiness. 

The clock in his room said 11:32 and Justin watched it for three minutes until it said 11:35 and he turned on [Leno](http://www.nbc.com/nbc/The_Tonight_Show_with_Jay_Leno/) right at the moment it started. Leno looked old, he thought, and then pushed the idea away. Leno was a nice guy. It didn't really matter if he looked old since he was pushing 60. 

Justin laughed at the monologue that poked fun at [President Bush](http://www.whitehouse.gov/president/gwbbio.html), who was thankfully ending his second term within the year. Justin hadn't voted for him and quietly despised him from afar. He never said anything though because he was around people who adored him, thought he was the greatest thing since sliced bread despite the fact he had plunged the economy into a huge recession in his first term and led the country into a long, four year war with Iraq and subsequently half of the Arab world. 

Leno's guests tonight were [Minnie Driver](http://us.imdb.com/Name?Driver,+Minnie), [Randy Harrison](http://www.queerarchive.com/uscast03-randy.htm), and Washing Texas, some half-assed rock band that Justin thought should just go away and stop trying to be [Creed](http://www.creed.com/). One Creed was more than enough. Justin tilted his head slightly and looked at Minnie Driver laughing on the TV. He'd slept with her about four years ago before he stopped the whole casual sex thing because of all the guilt that went along with it. 

The phone rang at exactly 12:01 and Justin reached for it, his fingers curling around the receiver as he brought it to his ear. 

"Hi, Mom." 

"Oh good," Lynn said. "You did make it home in one piece. I always get so worried. How is the place?" 

"After I run the air scrubbers tomorrow, it'll be perfect," said Justin absently. Randy Harrison was on now. He'd slept with him too. "It's musty right now." 

"You could let Maria open the windows," said Lynn cautiously. "Or I could do it if you don't trust her." 

"No," Justin said a little too quickly. "I like it this way." 

"Okay, Justin," Lynn sighed softly. "So. How long are you home for this time?" 

Justin blinked slowly and saw the months stretching in front of him, clear and free. "I...a while. I don't actually have anything on my plate right now. Not for a long time." 

"Good," Lynn said brightly. "You can take a break. Maybe see if we can find you a new therapist who can figure out how to cure you of these little...neuroses you have." 

"I'm not crazy, Mom," Justin sighed, watching Leno lean over and ruffle Randy Harrison's hair. Randy didn't look happy. "There's no reason to fix me." 

"Oh, I know that, Justin," Lynn reassured him. "I was just thinking we could look at it. There's a couple of things that are just a little...off about you lately." 

"I have to go, Mom," Justin said. "Leno is talking to Randy Harrison." 

"Call me tomorrow, Justin," Lynn sighed. "I want to talk about this more." 

"I will," Justin tilted his head slightly, thinking that Randy looked slightly run-down. He always got a little worried when someone he'd been sexually active with at some point in time looked sick. Maybe he'd get a blood test to make sure he was okay. "Love you, Mom." 

"I love you too, Justin," Lynn said, hanging up the phone. 

The phone clicked in Justin's ear and he hung it up, patiently watching Leno until [Conan](http://www.nbc.com/Late_Night_with_Conan_O%27Brien/index.html) came on. Conan's guests tonight were [Jon Bon Jovi](http://www.islandrecords.com/bonjovi/curtain.las) and [Tara Reid](http://www.cinema-stars.com/TaraReid/). Justin hadn't slept with either of them.

* * *

Justin dressed carefully, each item of clothing being thoroughly inspected before he put it on. He looked at himself in the mirror, running his fingers through his curls three times before he was pleased with his reflection. 

He'd been home for five days now and it got harder to get out of bed each morning. He didn't know how to stop moving. In the five years since [Nsync](http://www.nsync.com) broke up, he'd only had three weeks off at a time. Tour, album, tour, movie, album, tour, tour, and now home. He didn't have any studio time scheduled and to be honest, he hadn't written anything in months. He was burnt out and he knew it. That didn't make the prospect of time off any better. 

Justin walked down the steps, placing his feet directly in the center of each step. The house was cold, but finally smelled fresh again, vanilla tinting the air. 

"The king has risen," Chris quipped from the kitchen table. "I was starting to wonder if you were going to get out of bed or not. Then I was trying to figure out if you would murder me or not for entering the bedroom sanctuary without permission." 

"Did you take your shoes off before coming into my kitchen?" asked Justin, ignoring Chris's babble. That stuff wasn't important. Chris's muddy shoes were. 

"Of course, your majesty," Chris bowed slightly. "If I make you food, will you eat it?" 

Justin shifted slightly, looking at Chris's hands. They looked clean, but he couldn't be sure. "I just want coffee. And I can make it." 

"Fine," Chris sat down again, shaking his head. "How do you manage to suppress your freakiness when you're on tour and stuff?" 

"Medication," said Justin easily, tapping the refrigerator three times before opening it. "I go off it before I come home." 

"Are you coming to JC's party?" asked Chris, his leg rapping against the floor. Chris knew better than to get into the medication argument luckily. It never went well for anyone but Justin. 

"Of course," Justin said indignantly. "I always go to the get-togethers. Lance was the one that missed this summer's." 

"In Lance's defense, his son had the flu." Chris said, watching Justin make the coffee for the both of them. 

"Lance has a nanny," Justin said dismissively. 

"I'm glad you're not a parent," Chris said dryly. "You would never be able to get through the first two years." 

"That's why I don't have any," Justin said easily. "Do you want something to eat?" 

Chris pursed his lips, then nodded. It wasn't worth bringing up the fact Justin had sworn he wasn't hungry when Chris said he would make food. That was just how Justin was. 

* * *

Justin sat down in his computer room, settling himself in the large leather chair in front of his desktop. The monitor was top of the line, the graphics crystal clear as he booted up the machine. It took three passwords to get into the system and he sat back waiting for everything to connect. 

He clicked on the word processor icon and sat back again, looking at the blinking cursor. The decision to write wasn't something he made lightly. Giving up his hard-fought privacy was a very scary thought. 

Justin positioned his fingers over the keyboard, tilting his head to the side as he thought. 

Justin sat back and looked at the words on the monitor. He reread them and slowly smiled. He reached for the remote and flipped on the stereo, music flooding the room. He tapped the remote against the desk three times before setting it down, his fingers hovering over the keyboard again. 

He could do this.

* * *

"It's a bad idea," said Dr. Marvin, shaking his head. "You're not ready to send yourself into the emotional upheaval that will result in exploring your past this way." 

Justin straightened his shoulders and shrugged nonchalantly. 

"Perhaps if you go back on your medication" Dr. Marvin trailed off, letting the unspoken meaning lie in the air. Justin knew what he was talking about. 

"I don't like taking them when I'm at home," Justin explained. "You know that." 

"Your behaviour is starting to become increasingly erratic and dependant on the obsessive tendencies you exhibit. The medication will help you get control over your life again." 

"I'm not going to take it." 

"How about I give you a prescription just in case - " Dr. Marvin scribbled on the prescription pad, ripping the prescription off and holding it out. Justin didn't take it. Dr. Marvin sighed and tucked the prescription in Justin's folder. "I'll just send it to Mr. Wright. He can fill it for you when you need it. And I guarantee you will need it, Justin. This isn't something you can control." 

"Well will you look at the time," Justin stood up, resisting the urge to straighten his shirt in front of Dr. Marvin. "I guess I'll see you next week." 

"Don't cancel on me, Justin," said Dr. Marvin. He stood up and held out his hand. Justin swallowed and shook his hand quickly, forcing himself not to make a face. "I'll send this over to Mr. Wright." 

"Sure," Justin walked out of the office, rubbing his hand vigorously against his jeans. He managed to actually get outside the receptionist area before he tugged on the hem of his shirt three times. He let out a sigh of relief and pressed the elevator button with his keys. 

* * *

Justin washed his kitchen counter because Maria just wasn't cleaning it to his satisfaction. He could see faint streaks of dirt left behind from her sponge. It made his skin crawl so he got out bleach and clean sponges. He scrubbed the counter until it gleamed white again. 

The stove had streaks on it as well and he cursed Maria. He knelt on the ground and began to clean off the stove front, making the glass shine and glow in the low light of the kitchen. He stared at his reflection for a moment before noticing that the kitchen table was still cluttered behind him. 

It was just one thing after another, Justin thought as he scrubbed the floor. This was going to take awhile. 

* * *

* * *

"You need to get out of the house," Chris said, dropping his messenger bag on the kitchen table. Justin squeaked in horror and Chris glared at him defiantly. "Don't touch the bag." 

Justin fidgeted, his fingers fluttering in dismay. Chris sat him down in a chair that Justin never sat in. 

"I think we're going to go for a bike ride," Chris said. "It's pleasantly cool outside, but the sun is shining and you need to leave your tomb and get air." 

"I'm in the middle of something," Justin's fingers itched to take Chris's filthy bag off his table. He sat on them to keep from doing so. "I swear. I'll go out for JC's party." 

"At the rate you're going you won't be able to leave the house at all by then," Chris said a little too harshly. "The same thing always happens, Justin. You plan to, you really do, but something will catch your eye and you won't be able to ignore it and I'll find you two days later still scrubbing your bathtub or some shit like that." 

"It won't happen this time," Justin said, pushing the day he spent cleaning the kitchen out of his mind. "I know when it's starting to get out of control now." 

"Fine," Chris sighed heavily, looking over at him. "You know everything about your illness and I don't know shit. I've only watched it for the last twelve years." 

Justin looked at his hands, "It's not the same as living it." 

"I'm just trying to help," Chris reached for Justin's hand, lacing their fingers together. "I've seen you fall apart over and over again and I'm tired of seeing that." 

Justin looked down at his fingers tangled with Chris's. Years before those fingers had touched his all the time, but now he carefully removed them and set Chris's hand on the table. He got up without a word, turning on hot water and reaching for the soap. 

Chris watched Justin scrub his hands, feeling his stomach twist. "You used to let me help you." 

"I used to do a lot of things, Chris," Justin said quietly. He turned off the water, the sudden rush of silence flooding over both of them. Justin turned to face him. "You should probably go." 

Chris stood up, reaching for his bag. He slung it over his shoulder and straightened the placemat it had landed on. His hands shook slightly before he shoved them in his hoodie's pocket. He nodded a little and walked out of the kitchen. 

Justin heard the soft click of the front door shutting behind Chris. He pressed his fists to his temples and felt like crying for the first time in years. 

* * *

* * *

Lance sat down in the lawn chair across from Justin. He handed him a glass of lemonade, watching as Justin winced, holding the glass like it was a bomb. 

"It's good to see you out of the house," said Lance, ignoring Justin's dismissal of the drink. "Chris said he was having trouble getting you moving." 

"Chris exaggerates things," Justin set the glass down, wiping his hands on his jeans. "I've been working on some stuff and he seems to think I'm locking myself away." 

"Well," Lance said dryly. "You do have a tendency to do that." 

"I really _am_ working on something," Justin sighed. "I'm writing my memoirs." 

Lance blinked slowly, looking over at Cole playing in the sandbox. "Aren't you a little young for that?" 

"I won't name your name," Justin said. "No one needs to know about our wanton affair." 

Lance snorted. "Like people don't know I'm gay. I live with a man who is an attorney for [GLAAD](http://www.glaad.org/)." 

"So you do want me to tell the world we had a wanton affair when we were teenagers?" 

"Just leave Cole's name out of it," said Lance, looking over at the small child. "[Britney](http://www.britneyspears.com) and I made a deal when I got custody. No media." 

"Y'all have some fucked-up relationship." Justin reached for the glass of lemonade, studying it for a minute before taking a tentative sip. 

"Britney is Cole's mother and she has a say in how he's raised," Lance bristled. "She is a big part of his life." 

"Yeah but you and Ryan are Cole's parents." 

"Leave it alone, Justin," Lance said firmly. "You don't know the situation." 

Justin pointed at the lemonade. "This is good." 

"Tell Minute Maid, not me. All I did was put it in a glass with ice cubes." 

"It's still good," Justin took another sip to prove his point. His tongue hurt from the sweet tartness and the struggle to keep it down. "What should I get Cole for Christmas?" 

"How about being a real uncle to him?" Lance looked at him seriously. "Visit him. Talk to him. Maybe be give him a hug once in awhile." 

"Lance," Justin said warningly. "I do the best I can." 

"No you don't," Lance snapped. "You hide behind your phobias and your illness and your medication and your career. You don't give a shit about the fact there are other people who are a part of your life and who want you to get better. Fuck," Lance rubbed a hand over his face. "Go home, Justin. We do this much better over the phone since both of our inadequacies aren't face to face."

Justin put the glass of lemonade down on the table. He wiped off his hands on his pants and stood up, walking over to the sandbox and kneeling next to it. Cole smiled up at him brightly, the perfect mix of Lance and Britney. 

"I'll see you at Uncle JC's next week," Justin said quietly, leaning over and kissing the top of the little boy's head. "You be good for your daddies." 

Cole held up his sand-covered hands, his arms extended for a hug. Justin stood up quickly, watching a disappointed expression cross Cole's face as he dropped his arms and began to dig in the sand again. 

Justin turned to see Lance watching them, his expression sad. He ducked his head and hurried out of Lance's backyard. 

* * *

* * *

JC's girlfriend was a stripper when he first met her five years ago. Now she was a kindergarten teacher and the only person who could really keep JC in line. Justin loved her because she spent a week with him in a hospital in Switzerland during an ill-timed illness. She had only known JC for a few weeks before agreeing to stay with Justin. Of course, Justin hated her for the sheer fact that he had no resistance where Zoë was concerned. She could waltz into his house no matter what time of day or night or condition he was in and he wouldn't flinch. No one had that kind of carte blanche with him anymore and fucking Zoë never listened to any of his protestations. 

Which was why Justin was sitting in his upstairs bathroom with a towel draped over his shoulders and Zoë standing behind him with scissors. Zoë talked about her kids while she trimmed his hair; Justin silent as he watched curls fall to the ground, littering the floor around his feet. 

"Chris has been sleeping on my couch for three days," Zoë finally said, setting the scissors down and raking her fingers through Justin's curls. "Do you want to tell me why?" 

"Ask Chris," Justin muttered, hunching his shoulders. Zoë's fingers made him tremble but he knew better than to ask if she would stop. Zoë never listened. 

"Sure," Zoë rolled her eyes. "Because Chris _always_ opens up to everyone about his feelings. Look, Justin, we're not you, so Chris doesn't talk to us. How about enlightening me on what the two of you fought about so I can attempt to get him back into his own home?" 

"Same old, same old," Justin sighed, relaxing minutely into Zoë's touch. "He bought up the past and I told him that I'm not the same person." 

Zoë sat down on the edge of the bathtub looking at him seriously. "He still loves you." 

"I don't want to talk about that," Justin said. "Are you done with my hair?" 

"Oh so we're playing the change the subject game," Zoë said dryly. "Don't fucking play with me, Timberlake. I know where you hide your cleaning supplies and I also know that you fired Maria three days ago and have spent the last two days cleaning the house obsessively." 

"You're a bitch," Justin grumped. "Why can't you be happy meddling in JC's life and leave me alone?" 

"Because someone needs to remind you that you're not the center of the universe," Zoë said, leaning over and patting his knee. "And I do it so well." 

"Seriously, Zoë," Justin said, looking at her hand on his knee. "I don't want to talk about Chris being in love with me or my relationship with him five years ago. I don't want to talk about any of that because it's in the past and I'm not that person and it's not going to happen again no matter how much he loves me." 

"Or how much you love him," Zoë finished for him smugly. 

"Go home," Justin stood up, watching in horror as the rest of the hair that was on the towel landed on the ground. "Fuck." 

Zoë watched as he got on his knees and began to pick up the bits of hair, carefully setting them aside and creating a small pile of his own hair. She sighed and rubbed the back of her neck, stepping around him and leaving him to his own devices. It wasn't worth it for her to sit there and watch him pick up the hair. It would take hours. 

When he finally came downstairs, Zoë was long gone but she'd left a note on the table along with a plate of food and a bottle of pills. He sat looking at the pills for a long time, Zoë's note open next to the bottle - _Just think about it_. 

Justin thought about it. He threw away the bottle of pills along with the plate of food and the note. He had to do this his way for once. 

* * *

* * *

"Why did you fire Maria?" asked Dr. Marvin calmly. 

Justin fidgeted on the couch, looking around and tugging at the hem of his shirt. "I think she was stealing from me." 

"Wrong. Try again, Justin." 

"Because I didn't want her in the house anymore," said Justin, glaring at him. "She wasn't doing things right. She got lazy while I was away and stopped following my instructions on how to properly clean and maintain my house. When I came home, she continued in her improper cleaning methods. I tolerated it as long as I could and then informed her that her services were no longer needed." 

Dr. Marvin nodded, leaning back in his chair. This wasn't the first housekeeper Justin had fired for those exact reasons. He'd heard this spiel before about how Justin wasn't satisfied with the way they cleaned or how they were stealing from him. It was all part of the way Justin dealt with his personal downward spiral. He isolated himself, choosing to go about it alone. Frankly, Dr. Marvin was surprised that Justin made it in this week at all. 

"I've been taking care of myself," said Justin quickly. "I haven't been cleaning much at all. Just. Normal cleaning. Honest. I went to the grocery store yesterday and I came here today. And Zoë cut my hair." 

"Are you listening to yourself?" asked Dr. Marvin gently. 

"Listening to myself?" Justin frowned, sitting back on the couch, his fingers tapping against his thigh. "What?" 

"You're very agitated being here, Justin," Dr. Marvin put down his notepad and moved over to the couch. "Let's stop the session, and work on relaxing you." 

Justin reluctantly nodded, closing his eyes. At least he wouldn't have to talk anymore. 

* * *

* * *

"Come on," Chris said softly, sitting on the edge of Justin's bed. He tugged lightly on Justin's sock-covered foot, smiling at him. "Let's get up and have some food and then a shower. It'll make you feel better." 

"I don't want to get up." 

Chris sighed, dropping his hands back to his lap. He was getting too old to deal with this. Getting Justin out of bed when he was 15 or hell, even 20 was one thing - but having to do it at 30 was awful. It just kept reminding him that Justin couldn't really be alone anymore. 

"You should go, Chris," Justin said quietly, looking at him from under the pile of blankets. The house was artic and musty again. He had stopped opening windows at least a week ago. "I'll be fine. I'm sure you have better things to do then sit here with me." 

"Not really," Chris moved over and laid down next to Justin, his head resting on one of the 'safe' pillows i.e. not one of Justin's. He put his hand on Justin's side. "I'm happy to be right here with you." 

Justin looked at him, his face serene. Chris being in his bed wasn't as bothersome as he thought it would be. He felt oddly safe. 

"Zoë cut my hair," Justin said weakly, trying to jumpstart the conversation. He tugged on a short curl to prove his point. "She told me you were sleeping on their couch." 

"I was. I'm not anymore." 

"Are you sleeping on my couch?" Justin asked him, his skin crawling at the idea. Not that he sat on the couch anymore, but it was the principle of the matter. Chris should at least ask. 

"No," Chris shook his head. "I'm sleeping on Joey's couch right now. He asked me if I could get the place ready for them since they're coming home in a couple of days for the holidays." 

"You have a house," Justin reminded him, sniffing a little. Chris smelled like vanilla and motor oil. It was comforting. "Why don't you sleep there?" 

"It's not important," Chris said evasively. "Zoë brought you medication when she was here. What did you do with it?" 

"I threw it out," Justin felt cold and he pulled the blankets tighter around him. "How long are you staying?" 

"However long you'll let me," Chris said, turning onto his side. "Are you going to let me stay, Justin?" 

Justin licked his lips, reaching out a shaking hand to touch Chris's scruffy cheek. "You can stay." 

Chris covered Justin's hand with his own, smiling at him gently. He watched as Justin's expression changed and Justin jerked his hand away. Justin rolled away, his back to Chris. 

"Wow," Chris said softly. "This feels like the last few months of our relationship." 

"Except I was a lot worse then," Justin reminded him sadly. "I couldn't do anything to help myself." 

Chris didn't answer that. Justin was a lot worse now; he just refused to admit it. All of them were aware of the fact including Justin.

"Chris?" 

"Yeah?" 

"You smell good," Justin said softly. "Like vanilla and motor oil." 

Chris smiled wanly. That was a compliment from Justin. "I changed my oil before I came over. And the vanilla - I know it comforts you so I wear it." 

"You do a lot for me," Justin looked over his shoulder at Chris, his eyes red. "Thank you." 

Chris reached out tentatively, brushing a hand over Justin's arm. "Hey, no need to thank me. I do it because I want to. You're my best friend." 

"Yeah," Justin nodded, turning away again. The room was quiet for a while until very softly Justin said, "I love you too."

* * *

* * *

JC's Christmas party was always a lot of fun. It was always a small, intimate affair, only close friends and family, but those who were there made it worthwhile. People who were invited chose JC's party over the huge, press-filled events. 

This was the first year that Justin hadn't been on medication though and it was terrifying for him. Prior years, Christmas had fallen during a film shoot or a recording session, or even a tour. 

"Come on," Chris said, his arms crossed over his chest. "We're going to be late if you don't get moving. And that'll upset our hosts." 

Justin trembled slightly, sitting on the couch with one shoe on, the other in his hand. 

"Christ, Justin," Chris kneeled before him, grabbing Justin's foot and slipping the shoe on for him. "Do you want to tie it three times or can I just tie it once and we get on our way?" 

Justin looked down at him, his face twisted in disgust. "I can't wear these. You touched them." 

"Well," Chris said, trying the laces tightly. "That's just too damn bad. You're going to have to deal with the sneaker situation in the car." 

"Chris!" Justin protested when Chris pulled him to his feet. "I can't go to the party." 

"I know you can't," Chris picked up Justin's bag and grabbed Justin's arm. "That's why I'm here." 

"Please, Chris," Justin begged, trying to get away. "You don't understand. Take the gifts, send my regrets, tell them I died - whatever! I can't go!" 

Chris turned to him, eyes flashing. "There are your best friends. They haven't seen you in months and they're looking forward to it. If you don't get your fucking act together and go with me" he trailed off, shaking his head. "I don't know if I'll be able to do this anymore." 

Justin yanked his arm away from Chris. "No one asked you to. You just took it upon yourself to be my babysitter. I never asked for this, Chris!" 

"Fine," Chris said softly, defeated. He shifted the bag of gifts to his other arm. "I'll tell everyone that you're sorry and you hope they all have a great holiday." 

Justin sat down, pulling the shoes off and tossing them aside. He rubbed his feet, his knees drawn to his chest. 

Chris looked at him once more and then walked out of the house. Justin sniffled softly when he heard the door slam. He hated this.

* * *

It was late when Justin realized that he wasn't alone in his house anymore. He could hear someone moving around downstairs, whistling tunelessly, giving him all the hints he needed. Only Zoë would be that inconsiderate of his feelings. 

"Get the fuck out of my house, Zoë!" Justin screamed as loud as he could, his voice echoing in his empty room. 

He heard someone coming up the steps and his breathing quickened. She better not come in his room. He pulled the blankets over his head and waited, listening carefully for any sign of her impending approach. 

The door opened and Justin pulled the blankets tighter around him. A moment later, someone pulled the blankets away from him and Justin blinked up at JC, confused. 

"You're not Zoë." 

"No," JC sat down on the bed, munching on an apple. "But it's nice to know that I don't look like my ex-stripper girlfriend." 

"Get out," Justin reached for his blankets. "And don't _eat_ in my _bed_!" 

"You missed my party," JC said, taking another bite of his apple. "Why?" 

"I told Chris to tell you guys that I was sorry," said Justin, curling away from JC. "You're still eating in my bed." 

"Chris never showed either. We figured that he's hiding out somewhere and we're checking houses," said JC, tossing his apple core towards the trash. It missed. "This was my first guess, but apparently I was wrong. What happened?" 

"Nothing. You can leave now," Justin turned away from him, hoping that JC would get the hint. "I don't know where Chris is." 

"You know," JC leaned back against the headboard, looking at the lump that was Justin. "Whatever it was that happened between the two of you, he knows you don't mean it. We all know you don't mean it when you flip out on us." 

"I meant it," Justin said softly. "He needs to move on with his life." 

"He loves you and kicking him out of the house is not going to stop that," JC said calmly. "You need to start taking control of your life again. This is getting to be too much for all of us to handle. You have to admit that you need help." 

"I don't have to admit shit," Justin sat up, glaring at him. "What right do you have to come into my home and tell me how to live my life? Do I tell you how to live your life?" 

JC reached for Justin's hand and put a small, blue pill in it. "Please. Take it. We all know it'll take a while for the medication to even things out, but something needs to be done. We all need to work towards a resolution here." 

"This is not your battle," Justin said weakly, looking at the pill in his hand. "I'm controlling it." 

"You're _not_ though," JC said emphatically. "You're hiding in your house all the time. I can barely get you to answer the phone when I call. Chris walked out on you. Lance told me that you ran away from Cole. Joey isn't even sure if you're alive anymore he hasn't heard from you in so long. We _love_ you, Justin, and we want you in our lives; but the way you are right now, it's not an option. It's your turn to make a choice - your obsessive-compulsive cycles that you repeatedly throw yourself into or your friends and family." 

"You don't understand." Justin said, closing his fingers over the pill. 

"You haven't let us understand," JC sighed softly. "Please, Justin." 

Justin sighed sadly, tugging on the hem of his shirt three times. He got out of the bed and started to pace around the room, heading towards the dresser after a couple of turns. He began to straighten up the top of the dresser, the pill still firmly clutched in his hand. 

JC watched as he repeatedly moved around a small angel figurine that Lynn had bought him years before. With a heavy sigh, JC got up and walked over to him, stopping Justin's movements with a gentle hand. 

"Take the pill." 

Justin looked at him for a long time, his eyes filled with unshed tears. Finally he lifted his hand to his mouth and swallowed down the small blue pill. It tasted like bitter defeat and he turned away from JC. 

"Good," JC said softly, patting his shoulder comfortingly. "You did the right thing, Justin."

"Maybe," Justin looked at the angel figurine, moving it again. His hands were shaking and he really wanted to cry out the burning feeling in the back of his throat but JC was still there, still hovering over him like he was a child. He half-expected JC to pry open his mouth to make sure he really swallowed the pill. "But for who?"

* * *

* * *

 

**Epilogue**

It was cold in [Toronto](http://www.toronto.com), the wind whipping through the air. Justin drew his coat around himself tighter, wishing he'd worn a scarf. It had been warm and sunny in Orlando when he left earlier that morning. It wasn't like he hadn't been to Canada in the winter before. He just forgot. 

Chris lived in an old brownstone on the outskirts of the city in a neighborhood that could only be described as classy. It reminded Justin of the house that Joey bought in New York for his parents and then lived in the basement of whenever Kelly kicked him out of their house. 

Justin shifted on his feet, the cold starting to sting his eyes. He finally lifted his hand and knocked on the heavy, wooden door. Chris's knocker was a devil's head with a ring through the nose. He had the same one on his house in Orlando. The metal was cold under Justin's fingers.

The door opened and Chris looked at him casually, leaning against the doorjamb. Justin gave him a smile and pulled the jacket tighter, shifting on his feet in a way that said 'I'm cold but don't want to say anything. Can I come in?' 

Chris stepped back and opened the door all the way, letting Justin into the warmth of the house. Justin hung his coat up on the coat rack in the hallway, rubbing his hands together for warmth. 

"Would you like some coffee or tea?" asked Chris politely, his arms crossed over his chest. 

"Please," Justin said, his tone of voice just as false polite as Chris's. "Tea would be great. It's freezing outside." 

"It's February in Toronto," Chris commented casually as he walked towards the kitchen. "There's a lake effect. You get used to it." 

Justin sat at Chris's kitchen table, admiring the house. It was so not Chris but it was very elegant with the aluminum appliances and pot rack. He wondered who the house was actually decorated for. 

Chris set a burnished copper tea pot on the stove and turned it on, walking over to one of the cabinets and gesturing to the tea collection. 

"Anything special you want? I have pretty much any kind you would want." 

"Earl grey," said Justin, smiling. "Hot." 

"Ah," Chris said, grabbing the tin of tea. "Still on your [Captain Picard](http://www.ugcs.caltech.edu/st-tng/char/picard.html) kick, eh?" 

"Now you're talking like a Canadian?" asked Justin. "You've only been here for two months." 

"Less than that," Chris took out a mug as well. "But off and on for four years. So the medication is working?" 

Justin nodded, playing with the mat. "JC kind of forced me to take them at first, but once I evened out I took them willingly. And I'm going to keep taking them this time - whether I'm in the public eye or not." 

Chris poured the boiling water into the mug and set it in front of Justin. He sat across from him, his hands folded on the table. Justin sipped the tea, hissing a little as it burned his tongue. 

"So why did you come here?" Chris asked. "I thought you weren't flying anymore unless you had to." 

"Coming to see you was important to me," Justin said, feeling uncomfortable and twitchy. He knew it was just nerves. "I want you to come home and sleep on my couch and wake me up for breakfast every morning." 

"I don't want to sleep on your couch anymore, Justin," Chris said calmly. "I'm getting a little old to couch-hop through life." 

"Okay," Justin took another sip of his tea. "Then sleep in my bed." 

Chris looked at him for a long time, not saying a word. Justin met his gaze, refusing to back down. There wasn't going to be another chance for him where Chris was concerned. 

"I thought you didn't want me in your life like that," Chris said, his voice scratchy. He coughed. "You told me that my touch disgusted you." 

"And you said that you hoped that someday we would be able to share the same cloud again," Justin reached over and touched Chris's whiskery cheek, the scratch so familiar against his fingertips. "I'm working really hard, Chris, and I want you there with me." 

Chris put his hand on top of Justin's and gave him a small smile. "I don't know if I can do this again, Justin. Fuck, I love you a whole hell of a lot, but I can't be rejected by you again." 

"You won't be," Justin promised, sliding his chair over to Chris's. "Please. Give me another chance." 

"If you're serious," Chris said, his voice shaky. "Kiss me right now." 

Justin laughed softly and leaned in, pressing his lips to Chris's, feeling giddy and happy. Chris's mouth felt and tasted the same as it did five years before. Chris brought his hands down and rested them against Justin's waist, kissing him back. Justin shivered softly and pulled back, looking at him happily. 

He was finally home.   
  
---  
  
 

* * *

 

   
  
---  
  
**Author's Note:**

> This story was written for the Definitive Wonder Challenge. The lyrics I chose for the challenge start the story. The title comes from Allen Ginsberg's famous poem "Howl." Rockland refers to a mental health facility that a friend of his had been in while Ginsberg was writing "Howl." I really have no clue where this particular topic came from, but it seemed to call to me. I did a bunch of research of Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder. Justin even quotes from the National Institutes of Health OCD information within the story.
> 
> Specifically Justin suffers from a combination of three common OCD behaviours: contamination fear, checking, and hoarding. These are exhibited in his constant need for cleanliness in his home, his nervous tics involving checking the hem of his shirt and touching things three times, and finally the shoe collection. The hoarding is the most minimal aspect of the OCD. Along with the OCD, Justin suffers from a touch of agoraphobia.
> 
> The current treatment for OCD is generally Cognitive-Behaviour Therapy, which is mentioned in the story. Since this story is set in the future, I am being optimistic that there will be more medication to treat OCD then there currently is. There is no real happy ending for people who suffer from OCD.
> 
> Justin in this story, even while on medication, has no guarantee that his obsessive-compulsive behaviours will not re-surface. There is no way to predict when someone is entering an OCD cycle though this story seems to give the impression that Justin's OCD cycle was brought about by lack of medication and change in routine. Both are possible reasons.
> 
> I am not an OCD expert. There's bound to be a number of things that are wrong in this story. I can accept that for the sake of story-telling and I hope that the rest of you are able to as well. 
> 
> Sites I used: OCD Online Homepage; Obsessive-Compulsive Foundation; National Institutes of Mental Health: Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder
> 
> Thank you's go out to Dayse, Sarah, Julia, and Liz for beta action and hand-holding.


End file.
